One Week Later
by Shadow's Life
Summary: Just because romantic involvement is out of the question doesn't mean that two people can't be tied together. This is a coda to the original, because I love YxG, but also the original plotline. Assuming George attends musical at end on a whim, as impetus.


"I'm home." Yukari slipped out of her high heels with a practiced grace, head bowing as she reached down to slip off the backs; when she looked back up, a smile was on her face.

It faded when she didn't receive a reply. Her husband leaned against the wide breakfast bar dividing off the kitchen, arms crossed, face grave.

"Something wrong, Hiro?"

He smiled then, abruptly, strained, and chuckled quietly. "I need to talk to you. Come in."

Warily, she stepped up onto the hardwood, walking forward and turning to face him, standing a meter away. Standing straight, she was exactly at his eye level when he leaned back as he was doing. He didn't try to challenge the small advantage, instead bowing his head, just a little.

"What about?" Ignoring the muted press against her eardrums that warned her of a coming fight, she spoke normally.

"I can't do this anymore, Yukari."

Dreaded words. He continued, oblivious, as the press became a dull ring, like the echo of a tuning fork.

"I tried. I tried listening to you, when you said that he was just a friend, a designer. I tried hard, and I believed it for a long while. I still try. But it's too hard, I'm too jealous." He laughed wearily at himself.

"He's too perfect for you. You're too perfect for each other. At least, it looks too much like that. And I've never really been sure that you belong with me to begin with. My heart tells me that you love me, that you wouldn't leave me, but I…I don't believe it, sometimes." His eyes were soft, and sad.

"We're getting married in three weeks. But I still get that feeling, sometimes. And always with him, always. I'm always comparing, wondering why. More than that. I can't stand that he talks to you. That he looks at you, that he touches you. I can't stand that you call him. It's too much for me."

The words were heartfelt, passionate even, but his face was desperate, pleading, and soft.

"Please just stop talking to him. For me. He's caused you so much pain, but you won't let that matter. So just stop because of me. I'm begging you. I've confessed – I'm so jealous I can't stand it. More than that – I'm scared. I'm scared you'll leave me for him. But I know you won't do that, right? You love me. So please, listen to me and stop talking to him…"

The entreaty finished noncommittally; he trailed off, mouth opening and closing as though his voice had stuck. He had stood up properly, somewhere in the middle of the conversation, but it somehow seemed to Yukari that he was the image of a man on his knees.

She tried to speak gently. "I can't do that, Hiro. I never will. He's part of my life, even though he'll never be a lover. I've told you that before. You can trust me when I say that."

"I know, I know." Abruptly, he looked frustrated. "Please, Yukari, this isn't about you. It's me. It's my own weakness. Please just let me do this, this once."

"Do what, Hiro?" Her voice was cold.

"Just – break up with him." He sounded tired.

"I wasn't aware you were in a relationship with him."

"Don't do that, Yukari." He rubbed his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"What do you mean? Tell me."

He sighed. "Break up with George Koizumi, Yukari. Please."

"I wasn't aware _I_ was in a relationship with him, either. Of that sort, anyway. Or that _my_ doing anything could be _your_ action, for that matter."

"I don't care what sort of a relationship it is." He didn't raise his voice. It was tired and strained. He made no effort to control it. "Just end it. Please. I'm begging you."

"Why should I?"

"For me. Please. Please, Yukari. Just do it for me. Because I don't know if you're mine or not, when I see you with him. Please, just for me to be at rest." He looked at her, eyes quietly desperate, with the tiniest hint of uncertainty.

She looked at them, at him, for a long moment.

Then she reached into the pocket of her ruffled coat and took out her cell phone. She flipped it open, pressed a speed dial number, and waited for about three rings before she spoke.

"Hello, George." Her accent, polished from twenty months of enunciation classes, let her produce the European name without stumble.

"It's such a pleasure to hear a Japanese say my name properly. Yes, darling, what is it?"

"I accept your offer. I guess I'm coming to Paris with you next week, then."

On the other end, George paused for a moment before continuing smoothly in the same lighthearted tone of voice.

"Isn't that interesting? Is it to be a postponed wedding, then? Or is it to happen over the internet, or some similar ridiculous long-distance method?"

"More like cancelled."

"Oh, dear, have you and Hiro fought? Well, it can't be helped, I suppose. See you Friday morning, then."

"See you, then."

"Would you like to come over, tonight?"

"In your dreams, dumbass."

George laughed suddenly. "Now what would the world be if you and Arashi weren't the only ones who called me that?"

"More sensible. And Isabella tells you that too."

"Isabella would never be caught using such foul language. She tells me I am immature, incapable of basic communication, insufferably rude in the most inconvenient of ways, and a childish dreamer."

"And you see a difference here?"

Yukari could hear the smile in his voice. "It's not proper to be so cheerful after a fight with a fiancé. And I'm sure he's listening."

"He is." Yukari sighed, glancing at the expressionless face before her. "I'm saying this for him, too. I know better than to do things on the spur of the moment, George. But I ought to have done this a long time ago, and I knew it. I searched and searched, but I couldn't find the exact reason _why_ I had to say no, _why_ he was wrong for me, until today. That's why I left it till now."

"And why is that?" George's voice was grave.

Yukari closed her eyes and smiled, two tears running down her cheeks. No more came out. When she spoke, her voice was still normal.

"Because he hasn't asked me that question, even though he's standing here in front of me, listening to everything, knowing that I'm really talking to him and have been all this while, and is dying to ask it, but won't – because I'm on the line with you. He feels he's intruding on us." She laughed, the sound sad. "Aren't I horrible, to only figure it out three weeks before the wedding? And it was so simple, too."

"I see." The words were quiet, spoken with George's phone receiver on his mouth so that it lost all quality and dissolved into crackles that formed words.

"Thanks very much for helping with this little farce, because telling him this directly would have taken long enough for me to start crying again. I have a shoot tomorrow, so that would have sucked."

"Glad to be of service."

"I'll see you on Friday, then."

"I'm giving you a going-away outfit. Check the storage room Thursday night at eight."

"I'll be there."

"Good night."

"Good night."

She flipped the phone shut, and stood in place, watching the man before her.

When he spoke, his voice was composed.

"I guess I should have seen this coming…"

He laughed.

"Maybe it was self-preservation when I said all that to you."

Yukari watched him compassionately. He didn't speak further, and wouldn't look at her.

After a moment, she said, "I'm going to my flat. Will you come see me off on Friday?"

His mouth twisted sardonically. "I'm busy at the clinic. Sorry."

Yukari smiled involuntarily as she remembered a very similar moment, three years ago.

"Then farewell." She held out her hand, and Hiro looked at it for a second before smiling at it; he took the slim hand and shook it, once, firmly, before letting it go.

"Farewell."


End file.
